


let me be your lover

by centaurii



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cuddly Wuddly Fun Times, Domestic, HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAILEY!, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaurii/pseuds/centaurii
Summary: A terrible case of the sniffles.





	let me be your lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haileycl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haileycl/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Hailey! <3 
> 
> HOPE YOU HAVE A PUNDERFUL DAY!!!! xoxo

A terrible case of the sniffles. 

That’s the cause of this in accidentally falling asleep in the onsen for the fifth night in a row. 

Two days without eating make him a little weak, and really, with the change of seasons combining Victor’s cold from Mari and his nasal voice, it’s a higher risk for what he does. Not that forgetting to drink some water every now and then which Mari fetches reluctantly, Yuuri can’t be bothered for whatever day it is as long as everything is on time. He'd recently taken up work on the rink, if only to assist his friends and relieve them from their hard work for a little while. Deadlines are coming with the start of a new season and spring makes means for cleaning out lockers, smoothing the ice, questioning whether or not they should have consession. Payments trickle in nicely for his work while the hours whittle away with clicks of his keyboard.

That is, until it’s four in the morning when Yuuri finally wakes in the living room, lights off and clearly barren without a trace of his sarcastic sister. It’s much cooler and almost too cold to be in the warmer temperatures of spring, but then again, it is  _late_ and if there’s anything to go by it’s the glaring bright screen of his monitor. Mockingly it burns into his retinas, white and blinding until his computer turns off and Yuuri calls it a morning—or whatever time it is. His head is only slightly unfocused, and just too cloudy to care much for time. Whatever assignments remain are too much for the slight headache pressing between his eyes.

Shuffling to his feet, Yuuri pulls a blanket over himself, having to inhale sharply to clear his nose—wrinkling with disgust at the noise of mucus in his sinuses. 

It takes a couple more sniffs to finally get a breath deep enough to satisfy his lungs, sighing as he exits the building and blinking when bright streetlights hit from all directions. Another blurry sight frustrates him, world shifting off balance with each step that he takes and the dull ache behind his nose is spreading to his eyes at a considerable rate. Another tug of inhaling through his nose and the stuffy feeling is still there, punctuating every breath that it takes to keep on track with the sidewalk beneath his feet. 

Four in the morning means less traffic and not as many opportunities to watch his humans, though the desire to isn’t present at all. It’s better, he decides for himself, if he just focuses on maintaining balance.

He sniffs again, disgusted just like before with every breath that gets harder to suck in and maintain. Oxygen is only his enemy when Yurio’s hands are around his throat, but not even the ‘ice tiger’ roams in the early morning. In a horrible sense of a twist Yuuri realizes that it’s probably a cold and being in the cold will be the death of him, chattering teeth when his jacket pulls loose and he pulls it tightly around himself. 

Drafts of wind only serve to make things worse, icy chills etching into his paler skin and his head feels more than just stuffed, but hot. An interesting contrast, when his apartment is only a few blocks away and it feels like miles when his knees are disagreeing about walking such a short distance.

Maybe a faltering of step isn’t so terrible, but three more turning into four when he digs for his key are far too much even after he has to grasp for the door handle not to fall and make an embarrassment of himself, when only his opinion matters anyway. It’s still too early in the morning to be  _alive,_ he realizes blearily. 

Sniffling again—annoying, ugh—Yuuri manages getting inside, slipping off his blanket for his sofa to hold onto while he trails to his room, black socks making walking on the floor even more difficult. It’s just too hot and too cold if he removes every single article of clothing, pulling off his shirt when it feels scuzzy on his body. Looking at the shower longingly Yuuri decides it’s better to lie in his bed, covered in a much larger shirt and shorts, long sleeves swarming his hands curling into fists. 

By the time he passes out, the last assorted sniffle doesn’t bother him as much as not being able to breathe. The perks of not sleeping for so long, and with a cold ravaging his nose and the ache between his eyes.

And nothing good ever lasts for long. Starting with a shiver in the sheets Yuuri doesn’t wake, dreamless in sleep and shallow breaths eventually coming from his mouth in a watery rasp, drying his throat with cotton and coughing. Going on like this the shiver stops, words maybe forming into his name and sounding almost irritated, never hearing the nearly silent squeak of the bed shifting, nor the arms wrapping around him and bringing an inviting source of heat to aggressively cuddle for. 

The hand in his hair feels more than nice, however, and the stroke with the careful pull of his hair he feels a little more awake, never fully asleep when he can’t breathe so well.

The silence lasts for a record of another hour or two, drifting off into morning and still too early when the bed won’t stop moving and Yuuri can’t breathe enough to stay asleep. Eventually Victor, as far as Yuuri can tell, shifts up in the bed and takes Yuuri with him, pulling him into his chest while they sit.

A forehead thunks against his, warm and inviting even if his own is burning hot. But still, it doesn’t stop the arms that wrap around him. “My little piggy’s got a fever.” As if it’s not already obvious when Yuuri squirms to get closer to Victor, wanting the heat of a monster for his chills. Victor’s arms tighten around Yuuri, shirt riding up when it’s clearly Victor’s and far too big for the flea. Hand sinking underneath the fabric, he brushes against the warmed skin, resting Yuuri’s head on his shoulder while his fingers trail up the knobs of Yuuri’s spine. 

Eyes don’t open yet, wanting to bask in how warm Victor is and the possibility of actually being useful for once.

“Hey,” Victor’s voice is low, quiet enough not to aggravate the headache rampant in Yuuri’s head. “You look like a mess." 

Of course, Victor. 

But seeing as breathing is enough of a chore, Yuuri’s lazy enough to groan, making for Victor to press him closer and move to situate Yuuri between his legs. He moves a hand to cradle the back of Yuuri’s head, listening to the rasping breaths through Yuuri’s mouth while his head tucks between throat and shoulder with bleach-blond hair tickling his face. _Just stay like this_ , is all Yuuri cares for in the little that he can focus on.

Victor’s fingers on Yuuri’s back rest between shoulder blades, stroking in random patterns while the other hand lingers in Yuuri’s hair, pausing when Yuuri takes the chance to cough and resume when he starts wheezes for air. There probably isn’t much he can do besides rifle through a medicine cabinet for medications Yuuri sparingly keeps. "Come on, lie down for a little while.”

Yuuri slips off, eyes narrowing and staring with repugnance rather than attempting a full-on glare. From the furrow in his brow Victor can tell there’s a headache behind the dim red, causing mayhem while cheeks flush an envious shade to almost match. With Yuuri’s lips parting to force in more air, warmer by turning on the heater when Victor arrives earlier, the blond leans forward to kiss Yuuri as he slides off the bed. And the inside of his mouth is hot, Victor realizes as soon as his lips press against dry ones and caress with a gentle motion, leaving Yuuri breathless and unamused as soon as he pulls away. Two can play at this game.

Bare feet pad on the heated floor, envious at the expensive luxuries in Yuuri’s apartment which serves as an entire house, much better than his own. But at his own, he knows Yuuri better draped in his own scent than Yuuri’s that tastes like cold steel and much more beneath the exterior. Sneaky, just like him, to crash right in and take whatever Victor has, including whatever remains of flushing if Yuuri can catch him off guard. Usually it’s Yuuri that’s much easier to embarrass whenever a reason comes by, be it sleeping unguarded in Victor’s bed or his own, or even daring to smirk like he doesn’t know any better.

Of course he does. The same way Victor knows that most medicines are in the upper cabinet next to the mirror when he rifles through them, setting down the ones that aren’t what he’s looking for on the counter in front of him. Most of them are pain medications, forcing at least a cringe when Victor knows they’re extra strong for reasons that involve accidentally throwing too hard or hitting too much on one tiny body.

It’s times like this where he has a somewhat keen sense of how vulnerable Yuuri is, and this time the flea’s wrapped in his sheets and burning hot. As long as he’s not sweating as much as he is shivering, knowing firsthand from having Yuuri refusing to let go of him for some reason, he supposes it’s fine to leave the cold cloth for later.

Finally he finds fever reducers, following the cough syrup with the disgustingly red color and an even worse smell and taste. Reminding himself only makes Victor gag, gathering the items and reading the backs to make sure the medicine isn’t expired, still making a face when he holds the cough syrup before venturing back to Yuuri. It’s only one door, attached to Yuuri’s bedroom. Which is all good, as long as Victor gets to warm his feet on the floor without socks and warm a bed with Yuuri in it. The painkillers out of mind with the intimidation of white bottles and too many too empty for his liking Victor closes the bathroom door behind him, coming to face Yuuri lying in bed, asleep once again.

“Piggy,” Victor calls, more of a nickname than an insult by this time around. “Wake up.” Remembering that his voice is too loud by the stiffening of the body beneath the sheets he carefully sits next to, relieved when he sees some of the water in the cup brought to the nightstand lower than before. 

Yuuri glares up at him, covering a cough with his arm halfheartedly slung over his mouth and eyes burning brightly. So the fever’s getting worse—Victor leans to knock their foreheads together, gently this time and hearing the hiss of pain that results. Lips brush the skin in an apology, Yuuri’s eyes closing limply once again before Victor presses his lips to each lid, saving the wet lips for last. This time Yuuri lets Victor pull him up, arms against his back and head before leaning against the headboard.

“What do you want, Victor?” he grumbles, voice nasal and rough while he pulls the blankets tighter around him.

“How do pickles celebrate their birthday?” 

“Victor _–_ ”

“They relish the moment.” Victor releases him to grab the medicines in his lap.

“…”

His cheeks are bright apple red, not as dark as the cough syrup and much better tasting, in Victor’s opinion, than anything related to the stuff. Still looking exhausted with the bags under his eyes and drooping eyelids more than actually pretending to still be awake. Cupping his face the bright lights of the room make him squint and Victor notices, twisting the cap off the bottle of fever reducers and fishing out two.

Handing them to Yuuri, he grabs the cup for him and his free hand brushes the bangs out of Yuuri’s face, tracing a closed eyelid with the pad of his thumb and into his hair. “Take the medications." 

Yuuri accepts the pills and water, glancing at Victor with little but apathy to give and ignore the scoff Victor gives in return for the ungrateful attitude. Tipping his head back Yuuri gathers water in his mouth, popping the two pills in and spilling drops onto his lap, fingers tightening into fists when he feels the cold and before he can do much else Victor’s mouth is on his tightly-sealed lips, fingers pinching Yuuri’s nose shut. 

At first Yuuri looks surprised, Victor’s eyes closed and his wide open until he swallows, reluctantly forcing down the bitter taste of pills and the feeling of catching them in his throat.

This is the worst. Up until Victor’s fingers remove from the pinching sensation, despite the fact he still can’t breathe and a tongue laps at his when he can’t hold his breath, panting softly. Pulling away Victor looks even more smug beneath the concerned look, Yuuri knowing it all too well and realizing only when it’s too late that the bottle in Victor’s hand is not to be trusted. 

With a twist of the cap and a pop that sounds, Yuuri can smell the faintest trace of bitter medicinal cherry, despite his own penchant for bitter things in which medicines do not apply. Ever.

"Open up." 

_Absolutely not._

Glaring with the strength and deadliness he can muster (not at all effective if Victor laughs at him, bastard) Yuuri shakes his head, refusing to grace Victor with the sound of speech for his intolerance to these childish antics. But Victor is already pouring that thick syrupy liquid into the cap that comes off the lid, measuring while Yuuri’s brain is frying from the fumes of disgust and medicine cherry.

In return, he kindly shows Victor his middle finger, blinking hazily as he does and maintaining his resistance. The blond beast with all his heat has the nerve to smirk, taking humor in Yuuri’s current misery to thrust the cup into Yuuri’s face, stench rotting any brain cells remaining as it’s directly under his nose. The sound of buzzing may be the sound of advanced decomposition in his brain.

"Love you too.” Victor forces the cup past Yuuri’s lips, draining it quickly and not giving much time for Yuuri to react before the bitter taste is coating his tongue and like poison the taste sinks in deep. Gagging and eyes burning Yuuri swallows hastily, getting as much down as he can and feeling the viscous fluid tremble down his esophagus with as much grace as him coughing onto Victor. 

Smirk turning into a malicious grin Victor watches Yuuri quickly swallow water down to clear the taste but it’s too late, branding into his tongue with permanence of rotting him from the inside out. Only now does it reach his stomach and make the acid churn in distaste.

Victor, he decides as he reaches forward with wanting to voice his opinion clearly but throat too sore to care, needs a taste of his own medicine. Therefore Yuuri decides on the perfect solution of revenge, pulling Victor into an open-mouthed kiss and sticking his heated tongue into Victor’s mouth, tangling with Victor’s warmer mouth and laughing hoarsely when Victor quickly reacts. Pushing him off isn’t as bad as the look of horror on Victor’s face, utterly disgusted and Yuuri sticking his cherry-stained tongue at him in mocking relief of getting even.

“Love you too, Victor,” he coughs hoarsely, grinning like a demon before Victor captures him again, resisting the attempts of Yuuri’s kisses until Yuuri pins him down, head throbbing but making an effort of kissing Victor again. 

It’s not so bad, facing defeat when Victor’s teeth refuse to let him in and he has hands pulling him close to Victor’s body heat, eventually giving in when the need for sleep is too much to ignore.

Resting his head on Victor’s chest, he decides that these sniffles—damn things, aren’t as bad with a monster heater. A terrible, horrifying, and cruel cold for daring to knock him down.

It’s enough, maybe, when Victor pulls the covers over both of them. One kiss on his nose just to make Yuuri twitch, and another for good luck.

“This what happens when I leave you alone for a few days?” Victor remarks in a dull murmur, still retaining humor while Yuuri’s vision is quickly fading, eyelids sliding shut and his headache pounding. “You need to learn how to take care of yourself, Yuuri.” he sighs, arms tightening and the quiet of morning fading into the background. Details, details.

But Victor doesn’t seem to mind. “That’s Vitya’s job.” Yuuri barely makes the sentence coherent, coughing into his arm once again.

The blush on his cheeks is just the fever, Yuuri tells himself.


End file.
